12 months, 12 poems.

2 - February

February's poem

Free verse with an on and off rhyme scheme.
Includes themes of suicide, self harm and depression. Skip this one if sensitive to those themes. This is a suicide note written as a poem.

I've rewritten this one because honestly I thought it was kinda cringe lmaoo enjoy <3

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If you're reading this, I am dead.

My palms rub red and raw against dense rope.
I fold it, bring it back around and begin winding.
Spiralling rope around rope and tying it off.
I hang it to my attic's doorknob and test the sturdiness.
One tug, two tugs, it loosens on the third.
I tie it tighter this time.
One tug, then two, and with the third, fourth and fifth it remains intact.

I set a tall chair up underneath it, climbing on top with a pen and paper so I can write this poem.
I place my head through the hole, positioning the knot so that it's just behind my ear.
I debate moving my hair out the way, having it torn out would hurt.
It would hurt - that's a little ironic.
I glance at the scab-encrusted lines down my arms.
Then, bubbly laughter escapes my throat. For a few moments I forget about the knot around my neck.

I wipe the tears from my eyes, probably a mixture of recent happy ones and older sad ones.
My eyes follow the wiped tears as they drip down my arm, and it dawns on me that I'm not in the mood anymore.

I unspiral the rope, unfold it and watch as it turns from a noose into a straight line.
I drag the chair back to the corner of my room and watch as my grave is undug.
I tug the rope down from the ceiling.
One tug, it falls down immediately and returns to my hands.

I finish writing this poem, crumple up what was going to be my suicide note, and throw it into the corner of my room as I decide to keep living for moments like these.